I finally picked up a book this summer. It has been a while, and boy do I miss the days of laying around and reading whenever I felt like it. We have been on the go quite a bit and have been having a ton of fun (more to come on all of that).
Anyway, I am reading Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, simply because I found it recently on my shelf and remembered that a friend had lent it to me last year. I should give it back, but there is a reason that I have it. I am a bit more than halfway through, and am not 100% sure how I feel about it yet...I find it intriguing and somehow personal.
But I just read a line that caught my attention, and I just wanted to write it down. I want to think about it some more later.
"It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss."
Thought-provoking.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Monday, July 1, 2013
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Two great books
Earlier this year, I decided that if I budget my time a tad bit differently, I might actually be able to read a book or two during the school year. (I always fit several into the summer months.) Snow days, like the one we just had on Tuesday, are helping me considerably with this resolution. (Seriously, there is nothing quite like getting 8+ hours of bonus time in your life - time that you thought would be spent elsewhere on obligations of the paying sort.)
On the other snow day we had this year, I was in the midst of reading an amazing novel, The Help, which gave me a glimpse into southern life in the sixties, from the perspective of, well, the help...and a brave white woman. With my bonus hours on that day, I was able to cozy up in some blankets and dive into a novel that forced me to take a fresh look at some history that I knew, but didn't really want to know. Or maybe better put: that I just wish wasn't true.
The Help was enthralling and affected me, if in no other way than by reminding me how far women have come, regardless of race, in the last half-century and how fortunate we are to be living in an age of relative tolerance, one in which we are able to teach our children to treat everyone with respect as humans without fearing for our own lives by doing so. Yet, it also made me question why that there is still so much hate and prejudice towards the various subsets of our culture, while simultaneously giving me hope that fifty years from now people will be just as astonished at some of the things we currently accept as I was at the concept of building an outhouse in the garage for the help.
Interestingly, with yesterday's snow day, I was also in the midst of a book. This time: The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeannette Walls, who is now a regular contributor to MSNBC. This is a book that I will never, ever, forget. I was completely captivated from the first pages and I read most of it with my jaw dropped. I finished it yesterday, on our snow day, and I am still reeling from some of the stories Walls told about her life while growing up. I am not writing this with the intent to review the book. Rather, because it affected me so profoundly, I simply feel the need to comment.
First of all, I find it amazing the things that people can endure and that they can still emerge with positive attitudes. Ms. Walls never really seemed angry about her situation, and somehow presented her story in a way that both showed her love and respect for her parents while clearly illustrating their flaws. Her story completely appalled me at times. My first response was that she was abused and neglected and starved, and in many ways, she was. But her story also demonstrated to me that giving your children confidence and love can be more important, at times, than even shelter and food. While reading some online discussions after finishing the book, I came across an interesting perspective: someone commented that overindulgence can be seen as a form of child abuse, too. Thought-provoking. There was also a comment that people are generally much stronger than they think they are. I agree.
Secondly, I need to acknowledge that I AM SO FORTUNATE. I am so fortunate to have grown up in the United States in a working middle class family with two parents, neither of which an alcoholic, neither of which selfish beyond reproach; to live in a house with more than two tiny rooms, with heat, running water, and food on the table; to be able to sleep without water dripping on me, to be able to sleep in a bed. I am so fortunate to have had a childhood with stability, and so fortunate to know the feelings of safety and security.
Sometimes, little challenges in life get distorted and little things get taken for granted and it takes a story like this to bring things back into perspective.
The struggles of the people of this world and those right in our backyards are some that most will never understand. The stories of the power of the human spirit are amazing and inspiring.
On the other snow day we had this year, I was in the midst of reading an amazing novel, The Help, which gave me a glimpse into southern life in the sixties, from the perspective of, well, the help...and a brave white woman. With my bonus hours on that day, I was able to cozy up in some blankets and dive into a novel that forced me to take a fresh look at some history that I knew, but didn't really want to know. Or maybe better put: that I just wish wasn't true.
The Help was enthralling and affected me, if in no other way than by reminding me how far women have come, regardless of race, in the last half-century and how fortunate we are to be living in an age of relative tolerance, one in which we are able to teach our children to treat everyone with respect as humans without fearing for our own lives by doing so. Yet, it also made me question why that there is still so much hate and prejudice towards the various subsets of our culture, while simultaneously giving me hope that fifty years from now people will be just as astonished at some of the things we currently accept as I was at the concept of building an outhouse in the garage for the help.
Interestingly, with yesterday's snow day, I was also in the midst of a book. This time: The Glass Castle, a memoir by Jeannette Walls, who is now a regular contributor to MSNBC. This is a book that I will never, ever, forget. I was completely captivated from the first pages and I read most of it with my jaw dropped. I finished it yesterday, on our snow day, and I am still reeling from some of the stories Walls told about her life while growing up. I am not writing this with the intent to review the book. Rather, because it affected me so profoundly, I simply feel the need to comment.
First of all, I find it amazing the things that people can endure and that they can still emerge with positive attitudes. Ms. Walls never really seemed angry about her situation, and somehow presented her story in a way that both showed her love and respect for her parents while clearly illustrating their flaws. Her story completely appalled me at times. My first response was that she was abused and neglected and starved, and in many ways, she was. But her story also demonstrated to me that giving your children confidence and love can be more important, at times, than even shelter and food. While reading some online discussions after finishing the book, I came across an interesting perspective: someone commented that overindulgence can be seen as a form of child abuse, too. Thought-provoking. There was also a comment that people are generally much stronger than they think they are. I agree.
Secondly, I need to acknowledge that I AM SO FORTUNATE. I am so fortunate to have grown up in the United States in a working middle class family with two parents, neither of which an alcoholic, neither of which selfish beyond reproach; to live in a house with more than two tiny rooms, with heat, running water, and food on the table; to be able to sleep without water dripping on me, to be able to sleep in a bed. I am so fortunate to have had a childhood with stability, and so fortunate to know the feelings of safety and security.
Sometimes, little challenges in life get distorted and little things get taken for granted and it takes a story like this to bring things back into perspective.
The struggles of the people of this world and those right in our backyards are some that most will never understand. The stories of the power of the human spirit are amazing and inspiring.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Shower thinking
Sometimes, I do my best thinking in the shower. And today, as the water ran over my face, I found myself having one of those showers in which, once I am brought back to the moment, I can't remember if I've shampooed or not. And I can't figure out how much time has passed. Today, I was thinking about my blog.
I am pretty sure that writing this last six months has changed me, and there are only a handful of things, or people, or events in my life that I can pin to that point. I am not so sure that the change has been much in any outward way - those of you who know me best would be the ones to comment on that - but it definitely has been major in many inward ways. I feel happier. I feel more in the moment. I feel more appreciative. I feel more inspired, and more ambitious, and more confident, and more at peace. I don't know what it is, really: the act of writing? the reflecting? the place I happen to be in life? the risk I take every time I hit "publish post"? the comments that people give me? the interacting in this way that is so foreign to me, really?
I was thinking about this in my time-warp shower today. And I went on a lot of tangents in this train of thought. In my very first blog post, I mentioned that I do not think that I will change the world, nor do I have ambitions to do so. And that is still a very true statement. But this morning, in a little blip of a thought, it occurred to me that it might be pretty cool if I could make some difference by writing, change the world in some small way. I think I have a pretty good feel for this scale of world changing - it won't be much. But, I thought, it could maybe (just maybe) be more than it currently is.
I tend to be kind of schizophrenic about what I want with this blog. Am I writing it for myself? Am I writing it for some audience, real or imaginary? Am I writing it for my kids? I think that the answer to all of those questions is yes, but depending on my mood, and depending on the post. Do I want to somehow garner a larger audience? Well, that would have its pros and cons of course...but I would love to have more people feel the way I am feeling these days. Would a larger audience even be interested in this blog? I don't know that I should answer that. I've realized that there is not a whole lot of cohesiveness to my blog: Sometimes, I write about my kids. Sometimes, about myself. Sometimes, about philosophical questions. Sometimes, about nothing at all. And my guess is that diversity may not be very appealing to the masses. That's just a guess.
I am a subscriber to a blog for the book I mentioned before, Run Like A Mother, and I love reading the authors' posts and the many comments that people leave for them. And what's more - I love leaving comments, too. Because I feel like I belong to a community. Everyone there has a common interest - running. If I did want a larger audience, maybe I would need a common interest. What would the common interest be for my blog? After much thought, this is what I came up with: For me, this blog is about recognizing, enjoying, appreciating, and finding happiness in the ordinary moments, and banking that happiness up for a day of adversity. We all have ordinary moments. Can we all find happiness in them? Can this be a community in which to do that? Look around you. This is life. It may be ordinary, it may be extraordinary, but this is it. Why not love it? Why not enjoy it?
And in this shower monologue, I wondered: Do I really want to change what I am doing? No, I decided. I like this. But one thing that I like is that I have held myself to no particular topic, no niche so tiny that I can't incorporate a bigger element. And then I thought of a phrase: Give me a moment.
Give me a moment. This phrase got me thinking about a bigger picture. What if every now and then, there was a post - or maybe an entirely new blog - called "Give me a moment"? And in that post/blog, as a happiness-seeking community, we gave each other the moments that made us smile, or think, or whatever was the topic for the day. And we could be a part of it for each other. And in reading others' moments, we might be lifted up a bit. And we can all benefit from slowing down and being in our own moments, and investing ourselves in positive thoughts.
So this is an experiment, and I am putting myself out there with this. But in the book I just finished (The Happiness Project), Gretchen Rubin resolves to "Enjoy the fun of failure." So, here goes nothing: Will you be willing to participate in this? It means that you would have to share (anonymously if you would like) by writing a comment on the blog (not on Facebook) AND post the "Give me a moment" link to attempt to get others to contribute, too. But maybe we can start something here, and it can be a positive for all of us.
Your comment can be a brief sentence, or a few words, or a paragraph. I am not going start with this post...this is just to see if anyone would be willing to participate. Because if no one wants to, then I won't force the issue. I am new to this blogging thing, and don't have a clue how to get a bigger audience except to appeal to you, my friends. Often I think it is easier to comment on or support compete strangers posts than it is people you know, but this is my starting point. If there is any interest, I may put these "Give me a moment" posts in a different blog. In any case, this is something that I would like to try, so for today, will you just give me a yes or no? You can comment anonymously if you don't want me to know who you are!! Thanks for humoring me. :)
I am pretty sure that writing this last six months has changed me, and there are only a handful of things, or people, or events in my life that I can pin to that point. I am not so sure that the change has been much in any outward way - those of you who know me best would be the ones to comment on that - but it definitely has been major in many inward ways. I feel happier. I feel more in the moment. I feel more appreciative. I feel more inspired, and more ambitious, and more confident, and more at peace. I don't know what it is, really: the act of writing? the reflecting? the place I happen to be in life? the risk I take every time I hit "publish post"? the comments that people give me? the interacting in this way that is so foreign to me, really?
I was thinking about this in my time-warp shower today. And I went on a lot of tangents in this train of thought. In my very first blog post, I mentioned that I do not think that I will change the world, nor do I have ambitions to do so. And that is still a very true statement. But this morning, in a little blip of a thought, it occurred to me that it might be pretty cool if I could make some difference by writing, change the world in some small way. I think I have a pretty good feel for this scale of world changing - it won't be much. But, I thought, it could maybe (just maybe) be more than it currently is.
I tend to be kind of schizophrenic about what I want with this blog. Am I writing it for myself? Am I writing it for some audience, real or imaginary? Am I writing it for my kids? I think that the answer to all of those questions is yes, but depending on my mood, and depending on the post. Do I want to somehow garner a larger audience? Well, that would have its pros and cons of course...but I would love to have more people feel the way I am feeling these days. Would a larger audience even be interested in this blog? I don't know that I should answer that. I've realized that there is not a whole lot of cohesiveness to my blog: Sometimes, I write about my kids. Sometimes, about myself. Sometimes, about philosophical questions. Sometimes, about nothing at all. And my guess is that diversity may not be very appealing to the masses. That's just a guess.
I am a subscriber to a blog for the book I mentioned before, Run Like A Mother, and I love reading the authors' posts and the many comments that people leave for them. And what's more - I love leaving comments, too. Because I feel like I belong to a community. Everyone there has a common interest - running. If I did want a larger audience, maybe I would need a common interest. What would the common interest be for my blog? After much thought, this is what I came up with: For me, this blog is about recognizing, enjoying, appreciating, and finding happiness in the ordinary moments, and banking that happiness up for a day of adversity. We all have ordinary moments. Can we all find happiness in them? Can this be a community in which to do that? Look around you. This is life. It may be ordinary, it may be extraordinary, but this is it. Why not love it? Why not enjoy it?
And in this shower monologue, I wondered: Do I really want to change what I am doing? No, I decided. I like this. But one thing that I like is that I have held myself to no particular topic, no niche so tiny that I can't incorporate a bigger element. And then I thought of a phrase: Give me a moment.
Give me a moment. This phrase got me thinking about a bigger picture. What if every now and then, there was a post - or maybe an entirely new blog - called "Give me a moment"? And in that post/blog, as a happiness-seeking community, we gave each other the moments that made us smile, or think, or whatever was the topic for the day. And we could be a part of it for each other. And in reading others' moments, we might be lifted up a bit. And we can all benefit from slowing down and being in our own moments, and investing ourselves in positive thoughts.
So this is an experiment, and I am putting myself out there with this. But in the book I just finished (The Happiness Project), Gretchen Rubin resolves to "Enjoy the fun of failure." So, here goes nothing: Will you be willing to participate in this? It means that you would have to share (anonymously if you would like) by writing a comment on the blog (not on Facebook) AND post the "Give me a moment" link to attempt to get others to contribute, too. But maybe we can start something here, and it can be a positive for all of us.
Your comment can be a brief sentence, or a few words, or a paragraph. I am not going start with this post...this is just to see if anyone would be willing to participate. Because if no one wants to, then I won't force the issue. I am new to this blogging thing, and don't have a clue how to get a bigger audience except to appeal to you, my friends. Often I think it is easier to comment on or support compete strangers posts than it is people you know, but this is my starting point. If there is any interest, I may put these "Give me a moment" posts in a different blog. In any case, this is something that I would like to try, so for today, will you just give me a yes or no? You can comment anonymously if you don't want me to know who you are!! Thanks for humoring me. :)
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Overbuying Maximizer
Maybe I am weird, but I get some sort of enjoyment out of finding words to classify myself. I think I always have. Well, at least since the days of those deadly accurate magazine quizzes (if you answered mostly A's, you are a ...). Ok, so maybe "deadly accurate" is stretching it a bit. Or a lot. But even though I am a true believer in exceptions to the rules and the idea of the broad spectrum (with only the rare person falling at one extreme or the other), I do feel like I gain some sort of new self-knowledge through the classification. And I like that.
Today, I read another chapter from The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin that I mentioned not long ago. And I found out that I am a "maximizer" (to my "satisficer" husband's chagrin). And though I don't fit the mold entirely, I am an overbuyer as opposed to an underbuyer. (I don't think I am quite organized enough to be a true overbuyer, and I have underbuying tendencies.)
As the term would suggest, an underbuyer is a minimalist in purchases, according to Rubin, often putting off buying until the last second, if at all. Underbuyers are the ones running to the store to buy toothpaste for that evening's teeth brushing, or a can of cream of mushroom soup for the recipe for which they have already defrosted the meat. They definitely don't have the latest gadgets. They wait until it is time to jump into the pool before they bathing suit shop. Overbuyers, on the other hand, have ten tubes of toothpaste lying in wait, and buy things because they may have a use for them "someday." Me? Well, I have often wondered if I have some sort of problem in that I never have less than eight rolls of paper towels and twenty-six rolls of toilet paper in my house. I have seven or eight tubes of toothpaste in my cabinet (all because they were on sale and bought with a coupon for less than $1 - we will need them eventually, right??). But I just recently found that I didn't have the can of diced tomatoes that I thought I had for the recipe - after I had started cooking. (Stewed tomatoes don't make the greatest substitute, but the kids didn't seem to notice.) Oh, and I definitely don't buy bathing suits in March.
What I really loved was the satisficer/maximizer distinction. Satisficers have criteria (which may or may not be high), and as soon as they find the computer, or daycare provider (ahem), or souvenir that meets that criteria, they are satisfied. Maximizers, and I am going to quote Rubin for the best effect, "want to make the optimal decision. Even if they see a bicycle or a backpack that meets their requirements, they can't make a decision until after they've examined every option, so they can make the best possible choice." Yep. And there is more: "Maximizers spend a lot more time and energy to reach a decision, and they're often anxious about whether they did in fact make the best choice."
I was sitting on the couch with my husband when I got to this part of the book. I had to stop and tell him that I had us figured out. "Great," he said. "In what way are you about to insult me with this classification? You know how I love to be labeled." What?? He could only smile as I read him the passage. Well, opposites attract, right? I can only imagine where we would be right now if we were both maximizers. Sheesh.
So how about you? Overbuyer or underbuyer? Maximizer or satisficer?
Today, I read another chapter from The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin that I mentioned not long ago. And I found out that I am a "maximizer" (to my "satisficer" husband's chagrin). And though I don't fit the mold entirely, I am an overbuyer as opposed to an underbuyer. (I don't think I am quite organized enough to be a true overbuyer, and I have underbuying tendencies.)
As the term would suggest, an underbuyer is a minimalist in purchases, according to Rubin, often putting off buying until the last second, if at all. Underbuyers are the ones running to the store to buy toothpaste for that evening's teeth brushing, or a can of cream of mushroom soup for the recipe for which they have already defrosted the meat. They definitely don't have the latest gadgets. They wait until it is time to jump into the pool before they bathing suit shop. Overbuyers, on the other hand, have ten tubes of toothpaste lying in wait, and buy things because they may have a use for them "someday." Me? Well, I have often wondered if I have some sort of problem in that I never have less than eight rolls of paper towels and twenty-six rolls of toilet paper in my house. I have seven or eight tubes of toothpaste in my cabinet (all because they were on sale and bought with a coupon for less than $1 - we will need them eventually, right??). But I just recently found that I didn't have the can of diced tomatoes that I thought I had for the recipe - after I had started cooking. (Stewed tomatoes don't make the greatest substitute, but the kids didn't seem to notice.) Oh, and I definitely don't buy bathing suits in March.
What I really loved was the satisficer/maximizer distinction. Satisficers have criteria (which may or may not be high), and as soon as they find the computer, or daycare provider (ahem), or souvenir that meets that criteria, they are satisfied. Maximizers, and I am going to quote Rubin for the best effect, "want to make the optimal decision. Even if they see a bicycle or a backpack that meets their requirements, they can't make a decision until after they've examined every option, so they can make the best possible choice." Yep. And there is more: "Maximizers spend a lot more time and energy to reach a decision, and they're often anxious about whether they did in fact make the best choice."
I was sitting on the couch with my husband when I got to this part of the book. I had to stop and tell him that I had us figured out. "Great," he said. "In what way are you about to insult me with this classification? You know how I love to be labeled." What?? He could only smile as I read him the passage. Well, opposites attract, right? I can only imagine where we would be right now if we were both maximizers. Sheesh.
So how about you? Overbuyer or underbuyer? Maximizer or satisficer?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Just a thought
After managing a spontaneous trip to the zoo today and in the midst of stressing about (and working to complete) my never-ending "To-Do" list, I somehow found myself with a few spare minutes this afternoon to pick up my latest non-fiction read: The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. I got about three pages further in my reading when I encountered this:
" 'Happiness,' wrote Yeats, 'is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing.' Contemporary researchers make the same argument: that it isn't goal attainment but the process of striving after goals - that is, growth - that brings happiness."
Definitely something for me to think about. Care to share your thoughts?
" 'Happiness,' wrote Yeats, 'is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing.' Contemporary researchers make the same argument: that it isn't goal attainment but the process of striving after goals - that is, growth - that brings happiness."
Definitely something for me to think about. Care to share your thoughts?
Monday, June 28, 2010
I am a runner
A great friend gave me a book for my birthday called Run Like A Mother by Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea. I am not entirely done with it, but I am close. And what I have read, I have loved. When she gave it to me, the gifting friend said something along the lines of, "I knew I liked this book when they mentioned having to schedule showers as a mom. I can so relate." And even though I have only run two 5K's, have no desire to ever run a marathon (at this point), and am only vaguely tossing around the idea of training for a 10K, the nice thing is that with this book, I can so relate, too.
I was a sprinter in high school, and I have only recently gotten into running for any significant distance. And by significant, I mean more than 200m, so I have been reluctant to actually consider myself "a runner." In many people's minds, I probably still am not. But this morning, I donned my moisture-wicking tank, tied my pink Nikes (not my brand new ones), and headed out for a morning run before the kids woke. In the rain. And as I ran the first 0.5 mile, I decided that as of today, I will consider myself a runner. Because I just knowingly went for a run in the rain. Now, I have been caught in the rain before, about a mile from home, and didn't have any other option but to run in the rain; and the second 5K that I ran was partially in the rain. But this was the first time there was a choice in the matter, and I made the choice to run.
So, as of today, by my very own definition, I am a runner. And I run like a mother.
I was a sprinter in high school, and I have only recently gotten into running for any significant distance. And by significant, I mean more than 200m, so I have been reluctant to actually consider myself "a runner." In many people's minds, I probably still am not. But this morning, I donned my moisture-wicking tank, tied my pink Nikes (not my brand new ones), and headed out for a morning run before the kids woke. In the rain. And as I ran the first 0.5 mile, I decided that as of today, I will consider myself a runner. Because I just knowingly went for a run in the rain. Now, I have been caught in the rain before, about a mile from home, and didn't have any other option but to run in the rain; and the second 5K that I ran was partially in the rain. But this was the first time there was a choice in the matter, and I made the choice to run.
So, as of today, by my very own definition, I am a runner. And I run like a mother.
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